Chapter 2 - The redefinition of flesh

The world was nothing but violent, rhythmic vibration and the smell of rusted iron.Isaiah didn't know how long he had been trapped inside the steel transport crate. Time didn't seem to work the same way anymore. When he was a human boy, time was measured in class periods, track practice intervals, and the countdown to dinner. Now, time was just a series of physical sensations. The roar of a heavy diesel engine beneath his claws. The jerking motion of a truck navigating a rough, muddy road. The occasional, terrifying tilt of the container as it was hoisted by a crane.He lay curled in a tight ball, his long, muscular tail wrapped protectively around his flanks. He was shivering. It wasn't just from the residual cold of the incubation tank, but from pure, unadulterated terror.Mom. Dad.He kept repeating their names in his mind like a mantra, clinging to them as if they were a lifeline anchoring him to reality. If he forgot them, he was afraid he would lose the last shred of Isaiah. He pictured his mom's smile when she was looking at his report card. He pictured his dad's grease-stained hands after working on the family car.A sharp jolt ran through the crate, slamming Isaiah's snout against the steel wall. He let out a pained hiss—a sound that still horrified him to hear coming out of his own throat—and scrambled to find his footing.Suddenly, the engine cut out. The vibrations ceased, leaving an oppressive, heavy silence in their wake.Isaiah held his breath. His amber, slit-pupil eyes stared unblinkingly at the seam of the heavy steel door.Clank.The sound of a heavy metal latch being thrown echoed like a gunshot."Drop the cargo here," a rough voice shouted from outside the crate. "Dr. Wu said to leave Asset 87 in the Sector 4 foliage. The sensors are online. We'll monitor the bio-readouts from the main facility.""Is it safe to just leave it?" another voice asked, sounding nervous. "That thing looked at me back at the lab. Really looked at me. It gave me the creeps, man. It's too smart.""It's just an animal, Miller. A smart animal, but an animal nonetheless. Let's unhook the chains and get out of here before the big ones smell the transport truck."Isaiah heard the heavy chains scraping off the top of the container. A hydraulic hiss followed, and then the massive steel doors at the rear of the crate groaned open.Blinding, natural sunlight flooded the dark interior. Isaiah winced, his pupils contracting into razor-thin vertical slits. He blinked rapidly, his eyes watering as they adjusted to the intense brightness.A wall of thick, humid air rolled into the crate. It smelled of damp earth, decaying vegetation, and the electric scent of an approaching tropical storm. It was the smell of a prehistoric jungle."Go on! Get out!" a guard yelled.A long, metallic pole pushed through the opening, brandishing a sparking, crackling electric cattle prod at the tip.Isaiah didn't need to be told twice. He scrambled backward, his talons clicking frantically against the metal floor, and propelled himself out of the crate.He didn't run; he tumbled.His new body was still a foreign, unwieldy machine that he didn't know how to operate. He had spent fifteen years mastering the art of balance on two human legs, orchestrating the complex dance of muscles and bones required to sprint down a rubberized track. Now, his center of gravity was entirely different. His spine was horizontal, not vertical. His hips were fused in a completely different orientation.He hit the muddy jungle floor with a heavy thud, rolling through the thick ferns and broad-leafed plants until he came to a stop against the base of a massive banyan tree.Above him, the heavy steel doors of the crate slammed shut. The truck's engine roared back to life, tires spinning and churning up mud as the InGen security team sped away, desperate to escape the deep jungle.And just like that, Isaiah was alone.He lay panting in the mud, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. Slowly, agonizingly, he tried to push himself up.Lean into the curves, kiddo, his father's voice echoed in his memory. You've got the legs of a Raptor.Isaiah choked back a sob that turned into a wet, clicking rattle in his throat. He tried to plant his feet.It was a disaster.When he tried to stand the way a human stands, his heavy tail dragged in the mud, pulling his center of gravity backward. He toppled over onto his side, his snout burying itself in a pile of wet leaves."Come on, Isaiah," he whispered to himself, though the only sound that escaped his maw was a soft, frustrated whine. "Get up. You have to get up."He tried again. This time, he forced himself to remember everything he knew about dinosaur anatomy. He was a theropod. He wasn't meant to stand straight up like a human or a kangaroo. He had to be a suspension bridge. His head and neck on one side, his heavy tail on the other, balancing perfectly over the fulcrum of his hips.He positioned his scaly legs beneath him. They were digitigrade—he was walking on his toes, not his heels. He pushed upward, extending his powerful, bird-like legs.He wobbled violently. His tail lashed out to the left to compensate for a lean to the right, nearly knocking him over again. The muscles in his thighs burned with the effort of holding up his weight. The growth accelerators Dr. Wu had mentioned made his bones feel heavy and ache with a dull, constant thrum.But he was standing.He took a tentative step forward with his left leg. The three large, curved claws on his foot sank into the rich, black mud, providing a surprisingly secure grip. He shifted his weight forward, swinging his right leg to match.He overcompensated. He moved too fast, and his tail didn't counter the movement in time. Isaiah went face-first into a thicket of ferns, scratching his sensitive snout on a thorny vine.He lay there for a moment, frustrated tears stinging his yellow eyes. It was humiliating. He had been one of the fastest runners in his school's junior varsity track team, and now he couldn't even walk three feet without falling flat on his face.Again, he told himself, gritting his serrated teeth. Do it again.For the next several hours, Isaiah did nothing but practice moving. He forced his human brain to stop trying to control his body like a human, and instead tried to tap into whatever raw, primal instincts InGen had hardcoded into his DNA.He discovered that if he didn't think about it too hard, his body knew what to do. His tail acted as a perfect, automatic counterweight. When he turned his head to the left, his tail swung to the right to keep him balanced. When he crouched low, his tail leveled out parallel to the ground.By the time the sun began to dip below the canopy, casting long, eerie shadows across the jungle floor, Isaiah was finally able to jog.It was an exhilarating, terrifying feeling. He was moving at a pace that would have shattered human world records, and he wasn't even pushing himself. The power in his legs was immense. Every stride propelled him forward in massive, graceful bounds. The wind rushed past his face, cooling his scales and filling his nostrils with a sensory overload of information.But with that physical exertion came another, much more dangerous sensation.Hunger.It wasn't the polite, easily ignored hunger of a human who missed lunch. This was a gnawing, savage, all-consuming void in his gut. His accelerated growth rate was demanding fuel, and it was demanding it now.Isaiah came to a halt, panting heavily. He looked around the darkening jungle, and for the first time, he realized he wasn't just a boy in a monster's body.He was a predator. And he needed to kill.